I Still Want That
by Riverbkstar
Summary: [Short One Shot] The life of Ricky/Amy following the show's finale. One-Shot for now. Based on the interview with Brenda Hampton, the show's writer. Spoiler - she said Ricky and Amy do find their way back to each other :)


_Dear readers,_

 _Yes, I'm back, but consider it a quick visit. I was creatively frustrated, listening to some strong lyrics and found myself back in Amy's head. I don't think about her as much as I used to, but she is hard to forget, so sometimes I let her stay for a while. I hope you all are well, and if you're still receiving emails from fanfiction and still care to read my stuff, thank you! I'm not planning on "writing" any more new stories, but this is going to be a one-shot that I extend from time to time when I need a break from other projects. Eventually, this will be a long story, most likely on another link or co-written with a good friend. Time will tell._

 _If you're still not over the finale (who is?) there was an article published a few months ago about what the show's writer, Brenda Hampton, planned to happen to each character in the chapters following their end on the show. For the most part, the article sheds a lot of light onto dark corners, answers some heavy questions we're all still asking and really give Ricky and Amy a fate their family deserves. This one-shot and sections following are based on the words of Brenda Hampton. Take them as my version of what really happens. I hope you find some truth in them._

 _Until another time-but still always now and forever,_

 _River x_

* * *

"I can't do this anymore, Ricky," I said into my phone. I was curled up on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest as tears slipped down my cheeks and spotted my sweater. My room glowed orange from the lamp on my night table—the light I studied by every night, all alone. Beside me was my textbook on child development, split open to the picture of a little boy who looked to be about John's age: nearly five.

"You have to," he whispered, sounding tired. It was late. I'd said goodnight to John almost two hours ago. "This isn't the first time you've said this to me. You're just stressed. Once you're home for his birthday, you'll feel better again, just like you did after Christmas."

"Yeah, and when I get back here, I'll be jet-lagged and behind on my work like I always am. It's too much. I don't want to do it anymore. I hate being away from him. I hate being away from you." Ricky was right. This wasn't the first time he'd heard these things. Usually a long FaceTime call with John could set me right for a few weeks, but this time it was two weeks into the new semester and I already couldn't wait for school to be done. I was exhausted. I'd be staying up later and later—unable to sleep and not really wanting to.

"What do you want to do, Amy? Move back? Forget everything we've struggled to work through just because you're upset again?"

"I'm not upset! There is something about being here that doesn't feel right anymore. It's different this time." A new wave of tears blurred my vision. I sniffled and rubbed my wrist against my nose.

"I don't care what it is, Ames. You deserve to do this. Live in New York, make out with guys at frat parties, become a teacher, studying far away from the strangling responsibility of being a full-time mother. Free from the drama and the gossip of this small as fuck town." I heard his apartment's refrigerator door shut close, followed a second later by the hiss of a can cracking open. Ricky took a swig of whatever it was…probably beer. He was still under-age, but that didn't keep me from finding a half-drained six-pack in his fridge on Thanksgiving weekend in 2012; my first weekend home since the summer I'd walked out, letting the final credits roll behind me like it was a series finale. "You wanted this," he said after another long sip.

"This is NOT what I fucking wanted, Ricky. All that stuff is bullshit. I didn't want to abandon you. You know I wanted it to be the three of us together, doing this together. I still want that."

The call was quiet for a minute, muted of the sound of him pacing the living room or sucking back his drink. All I could hear was him breathing. "I do, too," he said, his voice cracking. I started crying again. "But what can we do? I'm not letting you give up on New York. It's your dream."

"You can come for John's birthday," I said, the idea slamming into me like it was hitting me on the head. I jumped up from my bed. This was a good plan. If we tried hard enough, we could make it work. "He hasn't been here since you guys helped me move back to my apartment in August."

"Ricky started laughing. It knotted my stomach. I didn't want him to say no to what I was going to suggest. "And then what?" he said. "Never leave?"

He always knew what I was thinking.

"I smiled. "Maybe."


End file.
